


Mistaken Identity

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cat Calling, Comedy, Fighting Kink, Fights, Kinda, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Series, angela & jack best friends, romcom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7311277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Jack's first visit to L.A. he decides to make an example of a cat-caller with some unintended results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fuck you

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is un-betaed so please feel free to send types / grammar issues along in the comments. Thanks for reading!

“I can’t believe you live here,” Jack says, just managing to step to the side as a man with a face sweating stress shoves past them, complaining into his cell phone loud enough to almost compete with the traffic on all sides.

Angela easily sifts through the crowded sidewalk as they move up the street, through dry heat and blazing sunshine. “Careful Jack, that was almost pessimistic. L.A. might be growing on you more than you think.”

“God, I hope not.” He tries to keep up with her. She seems to move through the crowd so easily, hair bobbing up and down where it’s tied back, simple heels clicking on the sidewalk. He never quite got the hang of navigating city streets, a fact that isn’t helped by persistently avoided practicing. He could never just shove past and ignore people, he always ended up falling behind with the urge to just shout out a few clear orders to make them all fall into line, or click his tongue at the crowd like he used with his Uncle Earl’s heifers when he had to help get them up into the milking barn. 

“Do you, uh,” he calls, still trying to catch up to her, “do you like it here?”

“I do actually,” she smiles over her shoulder, nothing but brightness in the sunshine.

He can’t help smiling back. “Really?”

“Some people _like_ a little bit of liveliness, Jack.”

“Yeah,” he eases past a women with two handbags, a tiny pink dog in each one, and another man wearing a parka with duct-tape on one arm despite the eighty-five degree weather. “Liveliness. Sure.”

The street widens suddenly, opening up as the buildings fall away to one side into a square of sorts: palm trees waving from their concrete allotments, the sound of water coming from the low wading pools towards the middle, voices of people on benches and steep carrying across it all. Jack manages to catch up to Angela as she heads deliberately through the space. He looks around: the sharp blue sky overhead, crystalline buildings sparkling on all sides, advertisements flashing back at him with smiles and promises. 

“I guess I just don’t get cities,” he sighs, running a hand over the back of his neck and the short blond hair just at the base of his skull.

Angela turns, walking backwards to smile at him pityingly. “No one’s asking you to, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he hurries, “I know, I just… you’re really happy here?”

“I said I was!” she laughs. “God, you always worry too much, you know that, don’t you?” 

“I think I worry perfectly responsible amount.” 

“If you don’t stop staring around and keep up the pace we’ll never get to the lab. Do you still want to see it don’t you?”

“Of course,” Jack says instantly, “it’s your new job, and this is your new home, so of course I want to see it.”

“Do you even remember what I _do_ at work?” Angela asks.

“Of course, it’s um- ah… plasma. Something with plasma. And genes. I’m, you know, excited to see it…”

She rolls her eyes pleasantly. “Try to contain your enthusiasm.”

“Yeah,” he gives her a cock-eyed grin, “I’ll try.”

They’re almost through the square. Across the street and down a few blocks is a gleaming white building, glass twisting and curling in all the right angles up towards the sky. That’s got to be it. They’re almost at the street crossing when a voice calls out after them.

“Hey gorgeous! How ‘bout you walk that sweet ass over this way, huh?”

It’s the exact tone of voice Jack imagines calls after women on almost every city street of the world: self-assured and brazen, with a careless lazy sort of greed under it.

Angela sighs, slowing to a stop for the street crossing. She’s ignoring the voice, pretending she doesn’t hear it. Jack doesn’t find that quite as easy. She probably has more practice ignoring lewd comments on street corners, and that realization suddenly makes it even more harder for him to simple tune it out.

“Cold shoulder, huh?” The voice has a slight latino accent and sounds reasonably young, their age maybe. “Come on, blondie, real shame to go around wasting an ass like that.” Angela’s shoulders tense and Jack feels his teeth tighten. The voice doesn’t stop. “How ‘bout you turn around and let me see if the other side’s just as good, huh güero?” 

“That’s it.” Jack turns.

“Jack!” Angela whispers sharply, reaching for his arm, but it’s too late, he’s already heading right for that arrogant voice.

The only problem is it stopped before he turned and he has no idea which direction to head in. 

“Alright!” he hears himself suddenly snap. “Who’s the asshole?”

He scans the immediate area, which suddenly has a lot more staring eyes and peering faces than a moment before.

“Jack—“ Angela reaches for his arm.

“You got a problem, Eastwood?” the voice suddenly answers, as calm and casual as ever.

Jack’s eyes lock. There’s a man leaning against the fountain, both arms spread out over the stone work behind him, expression lazy and but interested. That’s as much as Jack lets himself take in before he’s heading right for him. 

“You’re damn right I’ve got a problem,” Jack says.

He hears Angela swear in German behind him but she doesn’t sound like she’s following, just as well. He lets his solid steps carry him right up to the man, who he realizes now, up close, is likely just a little older than he is and almost the exact same height: short dark hair, sharp brown eyes watching in mild fascination as Jack comes to a stop right in front of him.

The man holds up two hands without moving his arms from his comfortable position against the fountain. He tilts his head to one side. “I in trouble, officer?”

“You could use some goddamn manners,” Jack levels. He has a sneaking suspicion that behind him Angela is dropping her head into her hand in embarrassment but that hardly matters, his temper is carrying him all on its own now.

The cat-caller’s face splits into a wide grin. “Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“What for?”

Jack crosses his arms firmly over his chest, leaning back against his heels just enough to take the guy in properly. “You think that’s acceptable? Yelling sexual harassment at women in the middle of the street?”

Something shifts under the brown eyes but the smile doesn’t leave them. The man opposite crosses his own arms, and Jack can’t help but notice the solid play of biceps and deltoids that strain his black t-shirt as he does. “Got to admit, ‘acceptable’ wasn’t exactly the main goal there, Scout Leader.”

Jack can feel his temper starting to flicker. There’s nothing he’d rather do then wipe that smug expression off this asshole’s face, but he bites it back. 

“You think women like that?” Jack asks. “Random men yelling garbage at them like they’re pieces of meat?”

“Got to admit,” the man says, eyes hard on Jack’s, “I’ve never been all that good at what women like.”

Jack tightens his fists. “Right. Because who would care about that? Who would care, for example that ninety-nine percent of women say that this exact type of harassment makes them feel unsafe and threatened and would really rather trash like you kept your mouth shut.”

The eyes in front of his darken. “Trash like me?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Right. And I’m the one who needs some manners.”

There’s something about that expression that’s really getting under Jack’s skin, something that in that look of his that seems to think that nothing could possibly happen to make it admit it’s wrong, that nothing could possibly happen to make that man admit he was going to have to change. There was something about the dare in those eyes that was making his blood hammer in his ears.

“Listen,” Jack says firmly, voice lowering, “anyone who thinks they can walk through life with as little regard as you obviously do is going to get taught a lesson sooner or later.” 

There’s something else in that dark stare now, a spark behind the gleaming edges. The man straightens up fully and he really is the _exact_ same heigh as Jack, only the work boots on the man’s feet are maybe giving him an inch advantage.

“Is that what you’re going to do?” the man’s voice is suddenly lower, a rumble quiet enough that Jack’s not sure anyone else but him can hear it. “You gonna teach me a lesson?”

“Are you going to make me?” Jack growls back. 

The man looks back at him, arrogant grin still snuck onto his cheeks. He narrows his eyes, catching the edge of his tongue between his teeth and then suddenly he leans back, arms flinging out to rest on either side of the fountain walls again. “So, where’re your friends?”

Jack frowns. “Which friends?”

The man grins back at him. “The four other white boys you’re gonna need to kick my ass.”

Jack can’t help letting out half a laugh. “Oh you think I need help with that?”

“Don’t know,” the man’s eyes are suddenly, slowly, evaluating him from head to toe and Jack’s neck feels oddly warm. “You look like you’re more used to throwing hay bales over fences or footballs to prom kings then tossing around ‘trash’ like me. Not sure you’d know how to handle yourself.”

Jack feels himself smile. “You think so?”

“Yeah. I think so,” the man looks back at him, dark eyes hungry and sharp. “You gonna prove me wrong?”

“Honestly, that might just make my day.” Jack takes one step forward.

“Alright, alright!” Angela’s voice suddenly shoots like an arrow between them. “That’s enough, enough! Ihr beide seid Idioten.”

Jack feels the tension snap out of his limbs, cheeks heating up instantly. He glances around. People are staring at them on all sides, and jesus, he’d almost completely forgotten Angela was even there, let alone every other human being trying to just go about their day on a Thursday afternoon.

“Seriously?” Angela says. “You’re both going to start knocking each other’s teeth out right here? My _honor_ is adequately served, Jack, enough already.”

“Angela—“ he starts. She rolls her eyes and he knows better than to finish that sentence.

“Hey, chica,” the man calls, they both turn in his direction. He takes a few steps forward from the fountain and looks her right in the eye, that same smug smirk stuck on his face. “Sorry, huh? Didn’t mean any harm.”

Angela actually smiles back at him as Jack stares. “I know. It’s not his fault either, he’s from Indiana, he doesn’t know better.”

The man grins, “Yeah, no shit.” He turns back, bumping against Jack’s shoulder just hard enough as he heads back the way he came.

Jack’s temper flares instantly. He turns, mouth already open to yell after the guy, but Angela grabs him firmly around the arm and he lets her drag him back across the street.

“God, Jack, you really are a moron sometimes, you know that?”

Jack tries to shake the tenseness out of his shoulders. “Yes, alright, I actually do know that. But it’s men like that that I just can’t let get away with it, I mean they just say whatever they want and they think—“

“ _Güero_ ,” Angela interrupts, “means blondie in Spanish.”

“Yeah well, I got the gist of that. That’s why—“

“It means blond _man_ in Spanish, Jack.”

Jack slows. “I— wait… what?”

Angela’s smiling back at him now with a deviance in her eyes. “He meant you. He was yelling at you. Not at me.”

Jack stares. “You’re— I… oh. Oh no.”

“Yeah. Oh no,” Angela smiles supportively.

“Did… did an entire park just hear me threaten my own cat-caller for women’s rights?”

“Oh no Jack,” Angela says, “I don’t think anyone thought that was for women’s rights, I think we all know that was for your own ego.”

Jack can’t help feeling that entire exchange playing like some horrible reality television moment over and over inside his head: the way he’d _yelled_ after them, after _him_ , that smile - that smug little smile looking at him like he was a whole new marvelous kind of stupid, the way he’d let his eyes trail just over him, right from his feet slowly all the way up to—

“Check your pocket,” Angela says.

Jack snaps back to reality. “What?”

“Check your pocket,” Angela repeats. “He bumped into you on purpose.”

Jack slides a hand into the pocket of his jeans. There’s a slip of paper in it with ten digits written across in sharp handwriting.

Jack stares.

“It’s his number isn’t it?” Angela asks.

“No,” Jack says instantly, shoving the paper back in his pocket and heading deliberately towards the flashing white building ahead of them.

“There’s a waste-basket right there, you know. You could just toss it out,” Angela calls after him teasingly.

“It’s nothing,” Jack calls back, cheeks already heating up more than they have any right to.

“You’re going to call him, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Jack mutters.

“See,” Angela grins, skipping up next to him, “L.A. is rubbing off on you already.”


	2. fight me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Went ahead and added a chapter. Will probably have to add one more for Reasons. Enjoy!

Jack’s been here three times now and each time the place feels less like a hospital and more like an entire city somehow crammed under a roof. Albeit a pretty big roof. 

Jack gives the stone-faced security guard at the front a curt nod as Angela squeezes around the scanning equipment. She hands Jack a thin plastic tag, Jack’s face in contained 3D staring back at him from the front with “VISTOR” printed neatly underneath.

“You know,” Jack starts as Angela scans her own pass and the tall glass doors open for them, ”for such a high-tech operation you’d think you’d all have gotten past the name tags.”

“Some government habits are shockingly hard to break,” Angela says.

Jack looks around at the wide interior as he follows her. It doesn’t look all that different then it did a week ago, but it feels much fuller. What seemed even a few days ago like an abandoned beehive, full of hollow rooms that smelled like new furniture and not much else, now seems like a bustling, brimming ecosystem. People walk in groups on the catwalks that span the vast open space of the foyer, sunlight filters through the glass walls to land on tables that line the sides of the space, all crowded with eagerly chatting voices, ever face filled with that same sort of determined hope he’s seen in Angela’s eyes since she started working here.

“So,” he starts, turning his head to see all the way up the to the glass ceiling twenty stories overhead, “tell me what everyone does here again?”

“We’re building the future,” Angela says.

Jack watches a woman hustle past in a lab coat carrying what looks a lot like two robotic arms. “Right. The future.” 

It seems like historically everyone’s always building the future. The problem is it’s always _their_ future that comes out the other end. The future’s exciting, mostly because no one can ever see it in all it’s gritty grimy details that far out. It’s always masked in the enigma of possibilities, vagaries with tagline and slogans slapped on the sides. Anyone can believe in a future. It’s a lot harder to believe in the present. That’s what always made him feel a bit uneasy in places like this, like the institution Angela had been at in Berlin before this one, although this place really took it to a whole new level. Everything was clean and gleaming and bright, just like that future, but right outside these walls, just two blocks down, maybe a few more, there’s a present that doesn’t get to have a say in this bright new future. Jack often finds himself wondering what the future would look like if all the energy that went into tomorrow went into today instead. But that’s not quite as easy to come up with a nice logo for, is it?

“Angela!” a voice calls out. Jack turns, a man in his thirties with precisely kept dark hair and rectangular glasses is hurrying towards her.

She turns right away, obviously recognizing the voice. “What is it?”

The man comes to a stop next to them, slightly out of breath, eyes bright. “The samples - you’ve got to come see this, they’re starting to react!”

“Already?!”

“I know, I know!” the man says hurriedly.

Jack doesn’t wait to be introduced. He learned years ago that scientists don’t really have the same social awareness with that sort of thing that other people do. He takes a step back instead, giving them space to jabber on about plasma balancing and stem architecture and god knows what else. He sees a few people heading down the far corridor that catch his eye, different heights and genders, but all fit, all wearing a similar simple outfit. He recognizes the way they walk, the way they laugh to each other. They’re soldiers. He wonders where they’re going, what they’re doing here.

“Jack?” Angela says, with the tenor of someone repeating themselves.

“What?” he snaps back to her, “sorry?”

“Do you mind?” she asks

“Mind what?”

“Do you mind taking care of yourself for a little while. I really should go back to the lab. It won’t be long I promise, half-an-hour at the most.”

Jack knows what half-an0-hour at the most means in Angela’s lab time. It means he’ll get a text in two hours and give up on her in three to find his own means of entertainment for the evening. But he smiles back at her all the same, his sharp jaw jutting forward. “No worries. I’ll see you soon.”

She beams back at him, going up on her tip-toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll be back soon, promise. Then I can show you that thing I was telling you about.”

“Can’t wait.”

She waves as she and her colleague vanish with quick echoing steps down the hall. Jack sighs, leaning back on his heels and shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his pants. Well, what now. Should he go? He glances down at the visitor’s tag, fiddling with it for a minute. Bit of a shame to waste all that government paperwork on a ten minute visit.

He glances over in the direction the hallway group of soldiers had vanished into. He doesn’t look like too much of a civilian today; he’s wearing the simple well fitted cargo pants he often brings on training missions, just a grey t-shirt, simple boots. He almost looks like he belongs here, maybe he could follow them, see some more of this place, see where they were headed.

With a small movement he unclips his glaring “visitor” badge and puts it in his pocket, heading east down the vast gleaming hallways.

He may have been a little too confident in this whole recon mission. The place is a labyrinth and he’s almost convinced he won’t be able to find his way back five minutes into circling around halls and conference rooms and auditoriums. He’s almost ready to give up and find the nearest map when suddenly out of the corner of his eye he sees them again, not the same group, but another with that same energy: those same neat matching outfits of navy pants, cobalt t-shirts, with little orange and white accents on the edges. 

Jack follows them, carefully this time, and it doesn’t take long for him to find where they’re going. They push open doors to what looks and feels like a gym. A big one. He can’t help following in behind them and no one seems to notice. 

He gazes around, unable to keep himself from staring. The space they’re in is _huge_ , like everything apparently about in this place. The ceiling arches overhead covering what’s at least two football fields worth of space underneath, all white steel beams and glass. The equipment around is vast and diverse. It looks like there’s an entire high-ropes course far off to the left, and a rock-climbing array all the way up to that ceiling on his right. There’s various weights, machines, a running track around all of it.

He’s so wrapped up taking it all in that he almost stumbles into someone behind him, turning to quickly apologize to get a quick “shh!” in return. Jack shuts up, looking at where he’s gotten himself. There’s a group of the soldiers in their trainee uniforms, all gathered in a small semi-circle. He doesn’t seem to have been noticed, probably because everyone’s staring at someone in the middle, someone talking in the all-too-familiar tone of a C.O.

“You’ve all got field experience, at least what passes for it out in D.C. or wherever the hell else you came from, but I’m here because you’re going to have to start understanding that ‘field experience’ isn’t gonna cut it. This isn’t like any operation you’ve put on your shiny little resumes next to fucking honor’s society and community service with your roommate at the local soup kitchen. This is going to be the real shit, the deep shit. This is going to be all of us, bare knuckles, shoving order right back up the ass of the world, got it? And I don’t want anyone out there watching my back who doesn’t know how to fight when there’s nothing left but your bare hands and that bitter taste in your mouth that tells you you’re going to survive. Got it?”

“YES SIR!” the voices echo. 

Jack grins, he tries to move to one side, he wants to get a look at this guy. He sounds exactly like the type of macho “go-gettum” asshole who always winds up slapping the green out of fresh recruits: all bluster and no self-control. Funny. Self-control was what always really made the difference when all your plans go to hell, and all the attitude in the world didn’t make up for that. 

Jack steps to one side, trying to ease his way close enough to see, curious just how on point his mental image will turn out to be. 

“Now,” the voice at the front smiles, “I’m gonna need a volunteer.”

Jack eases around a particularly jacked young woman and suddenly his foot catches, he stumbles forward. A few someones manages to catch his arm before he hits the ground, pulling him upright. He refocuses, as his cheeks heat up and he looks at the man in the center.

“Holy shit,” Jack says.

Sharp dark brown eyes stare back at him, the surprise in them only lasts for half a second.

“Captain Jack Morrison,” the man says, “you volunteering to educate my cadets here?”

Jack straightens, still hardly believing it’s the same guy, the one from the street corner that day last week. 

“How the hell do you know my name?”

The man shrugs. “Anyone who comes through those front doors needs to get the go-ahead from more people than you’d think.”

Jack feels the weight of his visitor’s pass in his pocket. “I just came with a friend.”

“I know who you came with.”

“Uh, commander Reyes,” a voice asks suddenly. “Are you sure he should be in here?”

Reyes’ eyes don’t leave Jack’s. “Positive.”

Jack’s not so sure he _should_ be in here. But isn’t this just perfect for his damn life, of all places, in this micro-city of a building, through three security check-points, he winds up looking back at the face he’s been staring at his ceiling trying to remember for eight nights now, the face tied to a scrap of paper on his night-stand, just a scrap of paper with a few numbers scrawled across it, a scrap of paper he’s been trying to convince himself just to throw away for over a week.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Reyes says.

“What question?”

The man smiles thinly. “You gonna be my volunteer.”

Jack feels something twitch under his skin, and that’s just it isn’t it? That’s why he’s been staring at the damn scrap of paper unable to do jack-shit about it, because of that twitch. It’s that twitch that makes him not sure of what he wants, that twitch that feels dark and low and makes his fingers itch in a way that never results in anything good.

It’s something he can usually bite back, something he can usually channel into the field and those moments when you have to fall into the dark and not look back. He can usually push it away, but there’s something in those sharp eyes that feels like a hook digging into that dark deep need inside him, and something about that smug fucking smile that feels like the reel pulling it right to the surface, one click at a time.

He should leave. He should just turn around and leave. 

But he doesn’t. And it’s all Angela’s fault really, because it’s not like he has anything better to do with himself now.

Jack smiles back. “Yeah, sure. I’ll give you a hand.”

“There, see,” Reyes grins, “Knew it. You look like the community service type.”

A few of the young soldiers let out soft chuckles and Jack steps forward, out into the semi-circle of young faces surrounding the sparing mats. 

Jack doesn’t answer Reyes, instead he starts to slowly step to one side, feeling his own weight on the balls of his feet, evaluating the man in front of him. He’s his height, similar build, probably stronger, probably a little heavier, probably a little slower. He’s fought men like him before, all mouth and arrogance, a lot of swing without much follow through. They think they’re the ones full of surprises, and it always helps to knock that assumption right on it’s ass as quickly as you can.

“Alright,” Reyes says in his C.O. voice again, arching his shoulders back. “We’re gonna learn how to really fight while you’re all here, got it? Not that dance-around boxing sparring, or the hold and throw law enforcement shit. Real down and out street fighting, cause that’s what it’s gonna take. Got it?”

There’s a few crisp “Yes Sir!”’s from the crowd.

Reyes cracks his knuckles, arms and shoulders shaken loose. He turns to face Jack. “Think you can handle that, James Dean?”

“It’s Jack.” Jack punches him right in the jaw.

A few cadets gasp out in shock. Reyes actually staggers. He wasn’t expecting it. Just like Jack was hoping. But the face Reyes gives him when he looks up is far from the stunned, knocked down a few pegs sort of look Jack’s waiting for. There’s a fresh glimmer in those dark eyes, the smile on his face dragged into a messy grin with a bit of blood coloring Reyes white teeth. 

Jack stares, wondering just what the hell is going to happen next.

“First lesson,” Reyes calls, eyes narrowing on Jack. “Don’t let them catch their breath.”

He swings instantly for Jack’s head. It’s wide and dramatic and Jack dodges it only to catch a sharper closed fist he hadn’t even noticed right to his ribs. Jack gasps, breath flying out of him.

“Lesson two,” Reyes roars, “if they think they know you, think they know what you’ll do next and how you’ll do it - let ‘em. Use it. Abuse it.”

Jack growls, twisting his stomach and ignoring the ache in his ribs. He lashes out but Reyes drops to the side smooth as silk. Huh. He moves faster than Jack expected. He was prepared to be the quick one here but hell if he’s got to be the brawler he can take that just as well. Jack throws another punch. Reyes dodges it again. And again. He’s tiring Jack out. Waiting for his moment. 

Reyes eyes flash back at him tauntingly. “Rule three! Don’t waste your energy, even if you’re feeling like a dumbass.”

“Four,” Jack shouts. He swings, Reyes dodges, but Jack’s ready for it. He goes straight for him, gets both hands around the front of Reyes’ shirt and drags him in close. “Don’t run your mouth.”

He slams his forehead right into Reyes’.

Reyes staggers back, eyes foggy and dazed for a moment. Jack takes it. He leans back, channels his weight and spins, smashing his right foot directly into Reyes’ chest.

Reyes is thrown back with a solid thud, skidding just a foot on the sparring mat as he hits the ground. Reyes drops his head back, arms falling to his sides, and god it actually sounds like he might be laughing.

 _Don’t let them catch their breath._ Jack’s on him in less than a second, he gets a hand around his shirt, lifting him off the ground to punch him right back down. The meaty sound of the smack cushions against the space of the gym. Jack feels his blood starting to thud in his ears, his vision going clear and sharp and that hungry electric feeling arcing through his limbs that always sneaks up on him when he fights. When he _really_ fights.

He lifts Reyes up again. He’s looking dazed, but not out, and the fucking smile is still smeared across his cheeks. Jack hits him again. And again. The greediness of the fight sits low in Jack’s chest, curling it’s lips back from it’s teeth. He feels himself start to smile. He raises his fist again.

Reyes turns his mouth against Jack’s arm and bites. Hard.

Jack shouts in surprise, falling back, grabbing at his arm and the slickness of blood. It’s a mistake, he knows, but it’s too late now. Reyes roars, launching at him full force. He shoves Jack back, pinning him under his weight. He swings for his face instantly, once, twice. The ringing pours into Jack’s ears with the taste of blood in his mouth. He’s pretty sure it’s not coming from his teeth, he’s pretty sure it’s coming from his nose down over his lips into his mouth, down the back of his throat. He tries to get a decent breath but it’s too hard, the weight on top of him is too smothering, the blows against his head too blinding. He throws his arms to the front but strong hands catch them, pinning them back. There’s a low voice against his ear, more of a snarl than anything. “You done?”

Jack swallows the blood on his tongue. He arches his back and without warning snaps his thighs up. He gets his knees around Reyes’ shoulders and throws all of his weight up and back. It fucking works, just like it used to on his brother. They flip instantly, Reyes smashing back onto the mat and now Jack’s the one scrambling to the top, doing all he can to pin Reyes down as he breathes in the smell of his own blood and the other man’s sweat. 

Jack slams his weight down onto Reyes’ hips, careful to get far enough back that he won’t end up having the same trick pulled on him. Reyes is snarling, swinging for him. Jack just manages to dodge the first blow, grabbing his wrist tight enough to bruise and working it over Reyes’ head. Reyes’ other hand knocks him solidly against the ribs and Jack’s snarling without thinking, snapping his elbow against Reyes’ jaw hard enough to stun him back. He gets the other wrist, tight and hard and with a shout throws Reyes all the way back, pinning him solidly under his weight.

Things go still. Jack can hear his own breath hot as fire in his lungs. He can feel the weight of the man under him as his breathes come just as fast. In and out. In and out. Reyes’ pulse pounds under the tight grip of Jack’s fingers. Jack can feel his own blood dripping down his chin, snaking down his neck, all heat and stick. He feels himself start to smile, thoughts gone now, right out the window with any self-control that would have told him to stop this before it even started.

He looks down at Reyes, glaring hard into those brown eyes sharp as broken bottles. “You done?”

Half of Reyes mouth pulls into a smile. Jack feels his wrists flex gently against his grip and suddenly everything feels different. Reyes’ muscles soften under him, as if he’s accepting Jack’s weight, welcoming it. It’s something only Jack can recognize, only someone this fucking close can notice. He feels Reyes let out a slow breath, eyes hungry on Jack’s. Reyes back arches easing into Jack’s hold like someone sliding into a warm bath and ever so slightly - so slightly Jack’s convinced there’s no way anyone else could notice - Reyes cants his hips, grinding the line of his hard cock against the space between Jack’s legs.

Jack’s eyes widen his shock. He feels his grip loosen in surprise on Reyes wrists. He realizes his mistake. Too late.

Reyes slams his head into Jack’s rolling his weight. Jack’s back hits the mat again and fuck if after everything he’s going to let that be it. Jack raises himself back to his elbows and then stops instantly. There’s a familiar coldness pressed just barely against Jack’s throat.

Jack swallows, narrowing his eyes at Reyes. He can feel the entire room holding its breath. Reyes watches him calmly, one hand on Jack’s chest, the other still holding a knife firm between his fingers, a knife just grazing Jack’s skin.

Jack spits a mouthful of blood onto the mat. He growls, “Cheater.”

Reyes smiles at him, then leans back, voice for the rest even if his eyes are still on Jack. “Lesson Five. Cheat.”

“REYES!” a voice suddenly roars. Jack turns, watching as a giant bearded man stomps towards them. “You’re supposed to be teaching the damn kids, not offering up some damn snuff pay-per-view.”

“I’m teaching,” Reyes calls back, all good-natured defensiveness.

“Call it whatever the hell you want, come on,” the bearded man calls to the cadets, rolling his eyes, “you’re all with me for the rest of the day.”

Reyes stands, knife sliding back into his belt and the entire class exhales, held breath dissolving in hurried frantic voices and rushed excitement as they hustle after the giant. 

Reyes looks down, and with that crooked grin offers Jack a hand. Jack feels himself smiling as he takes it. Reyes pulls him to his feet easily, giving him a smack on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” Reyes says.

Jack can’t help looking. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry,” Reyes smiles, “I always wanted to chance to beat the shit out of a guy who ‘lost’ my number.”

Jack blinks. “I didn’t lose you number.”

Reyes snorts. “Oh yeah? Well I wouldn’t have fucking known it.”

Jack can still feel the heat thudding through his blood, his breath trying to slow down and barely making it. His head’s cluttered with the feeling of thick wrists in his hands and hips arching up just enough—

“Let’s do something,” Jack breathes. “Tonight.”

Reyes lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice still feels rougher than it should. And christ, he really shouldn’t be doing anything let along asking people out when he can still feel the fight sliding under his skin. It makes him stupid, makes him greedy in a way he likes a bit too much. 

Reyes smiles. There’s still blood in his teeth. “Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading - as always comments, kudos, bookmarks all super appreciated. Oh! And this is un-betaed so feel free to send grammar / spelling errors along. 
> 
> Have a good one!


	3. Chapter 3

The sun is setting over the city, with reds and oranges and purples saturating the skyline in a burst of rich color. The shine of the building catches the colors and throws them back twice as strong. From where he’s standing he can see the sun just starting to scrape the edge of the sea. The vast expanse of mirror-like ocean stretches in a thousand colors out as far as he can follow. There’s plenty of things wrong with L.A. - the heat, the smog, the people who didn’t seem to notice anything besides the sound of their own voices, but as far as sunset’s go, well, Jack can’t hold that against the place.

He sighs, stepping back from his position on the third floor, gazing out the glass wall facing west. He lets himself lean against the railing behind him, crossing his arms in front of his chest. The place still feels active, but considerably less so than earlier today. Every once in awhile someone walks past him in a neat white coat or a sharp military uniform. He watches them as they go, their attention focused and alert, as if they have a hundred things to do and they’re all just the type of people who love to have that much on their plate. Just like Angela. She’s _still_ working on her findings up in her offices. He knew she would be. He managed to find her earlier and she took fifteen minutes to call him a child and put a plaster on his nose before rushing him out again. Jack smiles at the thought. She’s happy here, happy enough to be distracted in exactly the way she likes. That’s what she deserves. 

“Hey,” a voice calls next to him.

Jack turns, eyes widening in surprise before he smiles. “Yeah, hey.”

Reyes leans against the railing next to him. He crosses his arms, just like Jack’s and looks out across the color-soaked skyline with sigh. “Not too bad, huh.”

“Yeah,” Jack admits. “Not too bad.”

Jack risks glancing over at him. He’s got just about the same outfit as before, a few changes: jeans, the same t-shirt, a sweatshirt with the same logo zipped up halfway. There’s a little white bandage on his cheekbone. 

“How’s uh,” Jack gestures lamely towards it, “how’s that?”

Reyes shrugs, he pulls his eyes from the sunset to Jack and a oddly soft smile falls across his cheeks. “How’s the nose?”

Jack laughs. “Had worse.”

“How about the ribs?”

“Sore,” Jack says, “but I’ll live.”

“Yeah,” Reyes snorts, “we’ll always live.”

He looks at the sunset for a longer moment. Two doctors in lab coats move past, talking quickly between themselves. Jack watches them go.

“So,” Reyes says finally.

“So?” Jack says.

“So, Captain Jack Morrison,” Reyes says, apparently unable to keep the salt of mockery out of his tone, “what do you want to do?”

Jack shrugs, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “I uh, I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Reyes gives him a look. Jack feels his cheeks heat up slightly. Reyes laughs. “Man, you’re the one who asked to do something, so you know, you really ought to tell me.”

“You asked first,” Jack says defensively and christ what the hell was he thinking? He’s now fighting like an eight year old with someone because he got turned on earning a bloody nose and at least four bruised ribs. What the hell is wrong with him?

But Reyes just smiles, easy and crooked and leans back again. He takes a deep breath. “Alright, so let’s just say for the sake of argument I did ask, which by the way, I definitely did not, but let’s just say.”

“Alright, let’s just say,” Jack agrees.

“ _If_ I did ask, then we’d probably get dinner. I’m usually pretty fucking hungry right around now.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack glances over. “Where would we eat?”

“There’s this damn good taco stand down by the ocean, three blocks over and eight down. They make a pico de gallo that’s out of this world.”

“Yeah?” Jack smiles. “Then what?”

“Shit,” Reyes shrugs. “Well, honestly, you seem like the type that you need to take out half a dozen damn times before you can actually try anything.”

Jack can’t help laughing. “Is that right?”

“Yeah Steve Rogers, that’s right.”

“Then what would we do?” Jack asks again. He can feel his voice getting quieter, closer.

“Hmm,” Reyes leans back heavier against the railing, “go for a walk? Maybe get a drink. I’d probably have to walk you home like a princess.”

“This is all real flattering, just so you know.”

“I wouldn’t push it though, when we got there,” Reyes continues, apparently not hearing him. Jack watches Reyes’ mouth move around the words as he stares out at the sunset, eyes narrow and shoulders loose. “If you didn’t want me to come up, that’s fine, I’d be expecting that. I wouldn’t have to push it because the next night, or the next, I’d walk you up to that door, and just take one step more, just enough for you to know what’s going to happen…”

Jack’s feeling a little hazy. There’s something about Reyes voice, that daring grate under the smooth dark edges. Jack’s tongue seems heavier than before. 

“Then what?” Jack asks.

“Then,” Reyes’ lips twitch at a smile. “Then I’d press you into a corner and kiss you so slow and so fucking deep your knees stop working.”

Jack’s cheeks are definitely heating up now, and his throat’s got a bit of an itchy clambering feeling. He tries to laugh it off, but his voice comes out rougher than he means. “And that usually works?”

Reyes looks at him, expression heavy and smug. “Yeah. That usually works.”

Jack can’t help gazing back at him. He knows he should stop but he’s suddenly all too fascinated with how Reyes’ broad shoulders cock to one side, how his hips do almost the same thing in the opposite direction, balancing his weight evenly, how his short hair looks a little pushed around, as if he showered half an hour ago and it wasn’t quite back to normal yet. 

“So,” Reyes starts again, and his voice is quieter now as well. It feels so much closer, or maybe Jack’s just listening that much harder. 

Reyes lets one of his hands drift out. Jack watches it with a hazy curiosity. Reyes’ fingers uncurl. He lets the back of his index finger slide, just enough to feel, along the side of Jack’s upper arm. 

“Do you wanna go eat?”

Jack feels his own mouth open. “No.”

“Yeah,” Reyes smiles. “Me neither.”

It doesn’t take them long to get off of the main floor. Jack hurries after Reyes’ steps as the man in front moves down corridors and around turns in hallways, but each time it seems like they’re alone another scientist coat or military shirt flashes past them. Reyes nods and smiles at each one but Jack hardly notices, he can’t stop watching the way Reyes’ shoulders move under his shirt, how his hips shift with each step, how his thighs slide against the tighter fit of his jeans. Jack’s too far down this rabbit hole already, and he should probably be far more concerned about following an almost stranger around a mysterious building looking for a place to, well… But there’s a hazy hanging lust crowding around his head, mingling with the memories of that body under his and those hands around his collar and Jack knows there’s no chance he’s pulling himself back out when he’s already in this deep. 

Reyes picks up his pace and Jack tries to keep up, which isn’t exactly easy when he’s as hard as he already is. Reyes turns a sharp corner, stopping to look around. Jack sees the office next to them. It’s empty, door slightly ajar. His wraps his fingers tight around Reyes’ thick arm and pulls him inside.

Reyes let’s out a huff of surprise and Jack’s hands move before he’s thinking. He kicks the door shut, fingers greedily latching onto Reyes’ hips and pulling him close. He spins them both, knocking Reyes’ back against the nearest wall, kicking one of his feet aside to make room before shoving their hips together.

“Fuck—“ Reyes swears, eyes going wide, surprised in a way that has Jack’s pulse ratcheting up a few notches. 

Jack plants one hand on the wall behind them, sliding his other around Reyes’ ass greedily. He grinds up into the weight of Reyes’ erection with a sharp hiss. Reyes’ swears again, eyes blinking wildly and jesus, he’s got longer eyelashes than Jack realized, and that’s exactly the sort of thing he _should not_ be noticing right now. 

A heavy hand lands on Jack’s shoulder, trying to get purchase and managing it enough to lift and shift the angle of their hips in a way that’s exactly right.

“Shit—“ Jack gasps, his head suddenly falling forward, landing against Reyes’ meaty shoulder. His hips can’t help grinding forward, chasing a rhythm, that feeling of tight, _large_ , heat pressed against his own cock. Jack feels his own jaw drop open messily, panting breathes clambering out of him, and _Christ_ , he could really do this, he could really come right here in less than five minutes rutting against a practical stranger he tried to beat the hell out of just a few hours ago. 

Jack feels his rhythm stagger, start to loose itself, but suddenly Reyes is shifting and the contact is gone. Jack let’s out a ragged sound of protest. Two large hands slide up either side of his face and Reyes is kissing him.

Jack’s half lost already, hazy and stupid on the heaviness of his cock. He lets his jaw fall open almost instantly and the heat of Reyes’ tongue eases in, thick and heavy and _god_ so much more slow than Jack’s ready for. It feels like a drug, oozing through his blood-stream, all slick, blissful greed. One of Reyes’ hands tightens possessively in Jack’s hair and Jack feels his teeth react, nipping down at his lip. Reyes hisses, fingertips turning to nails on Jack’s scalp. He shoves him back, so hard and so suddenly that Jack’s breath leaves him the second he hits the wall. Reyes eases into him like warm ocean tide, his heavy body pressing tight against Jack’s, rushed breath in his ear, hips canting up against his again, just enough to tease, just hint at how good the pressure could really be.

“What do you want?” Reyes’ voice sounds at his ear, rumbles against his chest.

Jack swallows trying to think, trying to make himself keep it together because that’s a _really_ good question. Reyes pulls back slightly, just enough to look at Jack as he hitches his hips a little closer. Jack blinks hard, rolling his head to the side. Reyes catches their weight of his head in in his hand, dragging the pad of his thumb against Jack’s parted lips. 

Jack gazes backs at him. Reyes’ eyes are blown out, mouth open, and frankly he looks more than a little stunned.

“You look so damn good,” Reyes breathes. “Tell me what you want. Fucking anything, _anything_.”

Something sparks deep under Jack’s chest. The look in Reyes’ eyes, the memory of how he’d just given in to Jack’s weight on top of him on that floor in that gym, the way he kissed like he was begging for something…

Jack’s hand catches Reyes’ jaw and the spark in his chest flares. Reyes cock jumps against the side of his thigh.

“I want your mouth,” Jack says, voice suddenly firmer than he had expected it could be when he feels just this damn compromised. “Now.”

Something shifts in Reyes’ eyes and for a terrifying moment Jack’s sure he’s going to punch him again. But he doesn’t, and Jack realizes with a sharp thrill that he’s said _exactly_ the right thing.

Hunger flares behind Reyes’ face and he drops to his knees instantly, urgently shoving Jack’s hips back against the wall, yanking his belt open. It’s hardly half a second before Jack feels a rush of air, the sudden scrap of a smooth beard, and then nothing but a wet, tight, heat.

“Fuck!” Jack’s head slams back against the wall. Reyes’ mouth _drags_ over him in the most selfless, devastating way. He doesn’t even bother teasing Jack, doesn’t bother drawing him out, he simply wraps around him fully, tightly, all tongue and weight. He _pulls_ up, and down, with a torturously steady pace that has Jack gasping against the wall, messy whines and other thoroughly embarrassing sounds scrambling out of him with every breath. Reyes swallows every one, pushing Jack even deeper, even slower.

Jack blinks at the space between them. He tries to pull himself back together, tries to get a hold of the moment because _god_ he’s going to want to remember this for months, for _years_. One of Jack’s hands finds Reyes’ hair and Jack gazes down at him. Reyes looks up through those thick eyelashes. He looks like something wild, something caught between worlds. Jack’s breath pumps against his chest. He can see the thick weight of Reyes’ cock straining against his jeans, the way his knees are urging himself up with little thrusts each time he sucks Jack’s cock down the back of his throat. Reyes pushes back down again, tongue flush against the underside and swallows hard, shoving himself close enough that his nose grinds against the line of Jack’s stomach.

Jack’s groan dissolves into a laugh of shock. “You’re really _really_ fucking good at that.”

Reyes pulls back suddenly, his thick hand continuing to stroke down Jack’s full length as he looks back up at him, shit eating grin that stretched across his face. “Yeah. I know.”

Jack feels his fingers slide around Reyes’ jaw again and Reyes melts against the touch, letting Jack ease his jaw open again, letting Jack guide his lips slowly, teasingly back around the flushed tip of his cock. He let’s Jack run his thumb around the shape of his mouth as it wraps around him, let’s Jack’s fingertips feel the top of his throat as he ducks forward, swelling hard and it stretches, filled up completely with him. 

“Fuck—“ Jack says again, because _god_ , how can he not?

He holds Reyes’ jaw firmly, maybe a little too firmly, guiding it back out again, slowly, so damn slowly as Reyes’ eyes burn into his and when Jack snaps his hips forward, fucking full and deep into his mouth, Reyes moans, arching his own hips up, cock trapped behind his jeans.

“Touch yourself,” Jack says, voice a commanding growl. 

Reyes pulls back but Jack’s fingers tighten possessively on his jaw again. “Don’t stop.” And god he should be completely ashamed of himself, and maybe he is because his cheeks feel like they’re on fire and the nape of his neck is prickling. This is not the way he usually does this. This is the opposite of how he _ever_ does this. But the dare in Reyes’ eyes… that smug self-satisfied hunger that called after him on that street corner and knocked him flat on that mat, that look does things to him he doesn’t really understand and doesn’t think he wants to. 

Reyes eyes flash to him with a sudden fire and Jack feels himself twitch. “You asked what I want.” Jack says. “This is what I want.”

Reyes grins. He pops open his belt and his fly and Jack stares transfixed as he wraps a palm round the impressive weight of his cock. He tightens his lips around Jack’s dick and starts to work.

Jack gasps, pupils blown wide with the sudden increase in speed. His eyes flutter, trying to shut, trying to seal tight as the sensations pour through him but he doesn’t let them, he can’t, not when he can look at the picture of Reyes on his knees, sucking his cock like he’s trying to win a fucking medal and rutting into his own hand with hardly contained greed.

“Yeah,” Jack mutters, drunk and shattered on the feeling. “God, yes—“

Reyes groans as Jack’s hands tighten in his hair, as he feels Jack’s hips start to stagger and stumble. Reyes twists his tongue, sucking suddenly twice as hard and Jack shouts his release, cum pouring down the back of Reyes throat.

Reyes drops his own dick, both hands slamming Jack’s hips against the wall as he swallows thickly, tongue tracing heavy steady lines up the underside of Jack’s cock, easing every pulse of his orgasm out of him. Jack cries out, messy and torn. 

He lets himself feel it for another seconds, maybe two, before locking his hands on Reyes shoulders and shoving him back. Jack drops dizzily into Reyes’ lap, one hand latching around Reyes’ cock, pumping him as hard as he dares. Reyes let’s out a shout of a moan, head dropping helplessly against Jack’s shoulder, hips snapping up to meet him. Jack’s free hand snatches his face, lifting him up to look him dead in the eyes. “Come on.”

And he does. Reyes’ hips jerk with a sudden shout, hot cum pooling into the space between them. Jack continues to work him through it with equal determination until finally Reyes shakes hard and falls back against his shoulder.

Jack catches him as he falls back against the wall, feeling Reyes’ weight comfortable against on his chest, his own breath steadily finding a normal pace again.

Jack feels a grin sneak onto his cheeks. “What’s your name again?”

Reyes laughs against his chest, voice muffled. “It’s Gabriel.”

“So, Gabriel... how about those tacos?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading guys! Sorry it took a little while to update. I started another one, if anyone's interested, copAU, romcom meets crime thriller featuring.
> 
> Check it out [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7705264).


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